The start of Something New
by mo person
Summary: Tony's had the layout of the MegaMart memorized since before he could remember, something he prided himself of. But since he can't see and the customer service is terrible, maybe a stranger could come along to help, and maybe even start something new. Steve's just a guy with a few errands. Megamart then dinner, that's the plan. -blind!tony and cute!
1. Chapter 1

Tony cursed his luck. Of all the times to rearrange the supermarket without alerting any customers. He'd had George's MegaMart ingrained in the back of his mind since before he could remember, and he prided himself on his independence, despite his blindness.

He collided with new shelving and produce bins at every newly unfamiliar turn, and was getting steadily more frustrated as he went on. He shopped at the MegaMart for the familiarity and the quality produce. If there was a better place to get his soy milk and his veggies, he'd have switched years ago. Although, the customer service was very poor. He could hear the young employees chatting just a few yards away, and none of them would come to his aid.

He continued to explore the dangerous land of New Supermarket and made slow, agonizing progress until he reached the freezers. Frozen dinners tasted like cardboard and salt, but when he was too tired to cook, they came in handy. The convenience of it was desired because his work demanded his energy in order to make his drafts and circuitry without his sight.

The frozen dinners were not arranged the same. There was no way for Tony to know what each package contained. He was feeling dread in his stomach at having to memorize the placement of each dish all over again with a huge project coming up at work.

Just then, Tony heard shoes shuffle up beside him. Warmth emanated from the person beside him and he felt the sudden cold of the freezer as it opened and closed.

"E-excuse me." Tony turned towards the person. He hoped he was looking at the person's face, as he couldn't keep count of how many women had yelled at him for facing their breasts.

"Oh, uh… yes?" The person - distinctly male - responded. Tony heard some shuffling and assumed that the man was putting his items in a basket.

"I - you see, I dont know how they rearranged these, they put them all over the place and… I need a few boxes, is it possible for you to help me out?" Tony hated asking for help. That's why he tried so hard to be independent.

"oh.. OH!" Tony cringed as he realized that the man finally saw that he was blind. "Sure, what do you need?"

"Lasagna, Alfredo and the swanson TV dinners, two of each, please." Tony said.

"Absolutely!" The man was cheery and happy sounding. His voice seemed to be coming from above Tony, so he turned his head a little upwards to face his head area. "You know, my mom went a little blind before she died. But she always had the prettiest eyes. Maybe people's eyes are just too pretty that they become blind."

Tony was unsure if he had received his frozen dinners or not. But the man wasn't moving…. and he was talking about his dead mother…. and pretty eyes?

"Your eyes are very pretty." The man said.

"Oh, thanks… I've never seen them before." Tony replied. He suddenly felt a little bashful, having never received compliments on his eyes. "Your voice is pretty nice."

The man began laughing, and Tony found that he liked the sound. It was genuine and soft. It wasn't a snicker or a flirty chuckle. Tony found that he really liked it.

"Oh, I'll put these in your basket." The man gently put the dinners into Tony's shopping basket. Tony had the feeling that he'd miss this man, even if he'd only been in his presence for about five minutes.

"Can I touch your face?" Tony asked softly. He heard the man still.

"Uh, sure." The man said.

Tony gently reached out and traced the man's (very muscled) chest up his neck to his chin and over his cheekbones and strong nose. Tony traced the crevices of the man's face and felt the puffs of his warm breath against his fingers.

"I'm Steve Rogers. Who are- I mean, what's your name?" The man's lips moved surely underneath Tony's fingers.

"Tony Stark."

"Oh. Okay."

Tony put his hand on the man's shoulder and took a deep breath. The man smelled of Cinnamon and soap.

"Tony, would you like to maybe go out for coffee some time?" Steve asked.

"Coffee? I'd love to." Tony replied.

"Okay. Meet me at Hopperton's on the west side of town-"

"I don't know where that is…" Tony said, lowering his head.

"Oh, sorry. Where do you know?"

"The little cafe down on 5th street beside the pet shop? I dont know what it's named." Tony hoped Steve knew.

"Yeah I know that place. How does tomorrow at 3:00 sound?" Steve placed a paper in Tony's hand. "There's my Phone number… Oh my gosh I'm sorry!"

Tony laughed at Steve. He didnt expect Steve to adjust to his blindness right away.

"It's alright. You can just tell me and I'll remember." Tony said.

"You sure? It's 456-1358"

Tony said his goodbyes to Steve and counted his blessings.

"Maybe this whole fiasco is actually something good." Tony whispered, smiling. He turned to walk down an aisle and proceeded to trip over a newly placed display. His whole body ached from his spectacular fall.

"I take it back."


	2. Chapter 2

Steve started his days early. At least, usually he started early. But the dang bird in the apartment above his chewed on some wires poking through the wall and somehow cut the power in the middle of the night. He had slept in two whole hours before his body woke itself up and he glanced over at the clock blinking 12:00.

"Shit!" he cursed. He leapt out of bed stubbed his toe on the cheap wooden night stand he found in a garage sale. "Fuck!" He idly thought that his mother would have a fit hearing him curse like this.

Steve made it to the bathroom without much more hindrance and managed to brush his teeth, shave and run a comb through his hair without hurting himself again. He counted it a success. He hurried to what the landlords had called a kitchen and opened the old fridge to grab a few eggs. The whole contraption shook as the door opened, glass jars of homemade jam from Clint clamoured as they were jostled. He pulled out the carton of eggs and sighed at the lonely single egg in the carton. He went to pull it out of the carton but, it was stuck. A bad egg.

"Of all the things!" Steve huffed. He put the carton on the counter and looked for another breakfast option. There was leftover chicken from Sam's engagement party, and some vegetables, he could make a nice breakfast sandwich. He decided to slap it together quickly and wrap it up for the road. He went back to his tiny bedroom and shoved the broken closet door aside to reach his shirts. He pulled a soft cotton tee out to pull on and remembered that he had worn it to Sam's place and gotten cinnamon all over it. The smell was nice, though, and he shrugged and dropped his pyjama pants around his ankles. A pair of blue jeans were donned and he felt good enough to face the world.

"Office meeting, grocery store, then Nat's for dinner," Steve was halfway out the door, checking his phone. "whoops, my sandwich." He turned back, grabbed his sandwich and a bottle of water, and headed out the door. He passed the greasy doors of all his neighbors, and bent down to pet the cat that always managed to escape her owners. Steve decided that the stairs would be faster, and since he missed his chance for a morning jog, he figured it would benefit him. On the way down, he got a message from Nat saying that she needed him to pick up a whole lot of groceries for the dinner. He smirked. Of course, Nat never does anything nice unless she's getting stuff out of it.

Once he reached the lobby, he was met by a group of tenants complaining about that bird again, always chewing on wires and cutting power. He shook his head fondly at the overwhelmed landlord, and headed to his car. His beat up buggie was nothing to look at, but she was his, and she drove him where he needed to go. He unlocked her and started up her old engine, listening to the rumble and finding his radio station with the dial.

"Mr. Rogers! Oh my gosh Mr. Rogers, can I ask you another huge favour!?"

Steve looked up as Peter Parker, the kid three doors down living with his aunt, ran up to the car with his backpack and sweater in his hands.

"Missed the bus again?" Steve leaned over and unlocked the passenger door.

"That bird killed my alarm! I have a huge test in an hour I owe you big time, Mr. Rogers!" Peter hopped into the buggie and smiled at Steve. "Calculus this time, but I know I'll ace it."

"I'm sure you will too, kiddo. And didn't I tell you to call me Steve?"

They pulled out of the parking lot and went to Peter's school. It was a beautiful campus with an adjoining elementary school, the best in the city. Steve smirked as he noticed Peter stare at his supposed gym teacher. The boy was smitten with Mr. Wilson. The poor kid was way too young though, being 16 and all.

"Thanks again Mr. – uh, Steve! I really owe you one!" And Peter was off to talk to Mr. Wilson, brushing hair behind his ear. The poor kid.

Steve then drove to work, the most boring office in all of New York, Sheild Security Firm. He was on administrative duty because of a bad situation that left his right leg shattered and his physical performance low, but he was back on his feet and running again. He missed his field days. As soon as he walked into the building, the security at the front desk waved him over. The woman, Sharon, had been keeping him aware of office gossip and drama. She looked extra excited as she called Steve over.

"You would not believe the tea I am about to spill to you." Sharon liked using slang that Steve didn't quite understand. Tea? Spilling? "Remember Brock, your replacement? Turns out he was a mole! He's been leaking information on your old clients to gangs for weeks!"

"What! Youre kidding!" Steve leaned over the desk towards her. "All of my clients? Every last one?!"

"Each and every one. Mrs. Hannigan, that nice old man on 9th street and the Syrian ambassador's daughter. They caught him meeting with known gang members and last night, little Aliya was kidnapped. Thankfully we caught it in time and she's okay, back with her parents, but this has made a huge stain on the company and Fury is…. Well he's Furious. So, watch out. He may love you, Steve but even Nat's gotten a tongue lashing today."

"Dang. You take three days off and suddenly the whole world implodes. I'm guessing this is what that big important meeting was about?"

"Yup. Better not be late to that. Fury is on a rampage." Sharon looked around before leaning in close to Steve. "And between you and me, I heard Fury's little booty buddy is denying the big man any and his panties are all in a wad, so he's extra wound up from that too. Just tip toe real careful up there. I saw the man walk in. Not pretty, Steve. Not. Pretty." Sharon leaned back and turned her attention to her computer.

"Thanks, Sharon. Remind me to send you something nice for your birthday." Steve chuckled as she waved him off, looking at what he was certain was more office drama. She had access to sound and video from the office upstairs. She probably knew more about what went on up there than even Fury.

The ride up to the 6th floor was longer than usual. Steve liked a bit of excitement but he didn't like it like this. As soon as the doors opened, he could smell the tension. Fury's office door was firmly closed as usual, but his blinds were shut. Which he only did when things were bad, really bad. Everyone's head was down, even the new mail boy was being extra careful. Steve's desk was neat as usual, and he opened up his laptop and booted his extra monitor. He figured that he still had two hours before the meeting began and after that he was free to leave the office, go get groceries and meet Nat for dinner, so he figured he'd get a head start on the report due.

With his sandwich by his side, and his music playing softly in his earbuds that Clint had gotten him for Christmas, he had the report finished with fifteen minutes to spare before the meeting. He got up to stretch his legs and use the bathroom. When he returned, he took his laptop and a notebook and went to the boardroom. Clint and Nat were there, early as usual. And he sat beside them.

"The tension is as think as butter today. Is Fury really that wound up?" Steve asked as he sat down beside Nat.

"He's wound tighter than an elevator cable. He said I was breathing too loudly when he called me in his office earlier." Clint groused.

"To be fair, you do breathe loudly." Nat smirked.

"Okay hardy har, my hearing aid batteries were dying and I guess I breathe loud when I cant gauge the volume of my air intake." Clint crossed his arms. "Sue me."

"It's alright, Clint. I'm sure Fury is going to be professional and perfectly agreeable here." Steve offered, but he didn't know if he believed it himself.

As more employees streamed in, things grew more tense. Claire drummed her fingers on the table and glanced at the clock every three seconds, Sam was doing his slow nod he did when he was anticipating something. Nat was checking her nails but really she was looking at the door. Clint was doodling in his notes. Everyone was on the edge of their seats with anticipation.

The door opened.

Fury stormed into the room.

A chill swept the room and Steve wasn't sure if it was because of the icy look on Fury's face or if someone left a pocket of winter behind Fury. He slammed his binder onto the table and angrily pressed the projector button.

"I know you all know what happened with Mr. Brock Rumlow, and I'm sure I don't have to explain why this sort of behaviour in an agent is unacceptable. So I'm gonna cut to the chase. The media is going to be on this like flies on shit. Theyre going to be at your houses, and at the office every day until something better comes up in the news. I want all of you to know what the protocol is for dealing with the cameras."

"One: you have no comments. You all know nothing and you will not accept meetings. Two: If anyone claims that this response is scripted, tell them that it is company policy and in the clients best interest that information surrounding this doesn't leak to the general public. And three: If any of you are also moles, I have one thing to say. Get out before I find you." Fury's eyes scanned the boardroom packed with employees. Steve had never seen Fury so angry, but he supposed it was warranted. "Dismissed."

The boardroom cleared out very quickly, but Steve took his time.

"Rogers, Romanoff, Barton. Stay."

And Steve sat back down.

Once the room was cleared and the door firmly closed, Fury sighed and sat down. The anger melted off of his face, and a deep set tiredness set in. "I'm not sure how this one will blow over with the council. Rumlow…. Somehow managed to get the ambassador of Russia assassinated."

Steve's eyes widened. That was a lot more serious than a girl kidnapped and then retrieved.

"None of this leaves this room, but there are more moles in this office and in the field. Rogers, I'm officially clearing you for field duty but on the pretence of undercover work. I want you three to find the moles and gather information. Wait for my signal to take them out, until then, I want recon. Dismissed."

The three of them cleared the room, leaving Fury by himself.

"We talk strategy over dinner." Nat said quietly as they walked back to their cubicles. "Steve don't forget the frozen Vegetables."

"Sure thing, Nat. I'm heading out now."

Steve gathered his things and left. On the way out, he stopped by Sharon and she winked at him. "Get those moles, tiger."

He stopped by the Mega Mart to pick up all the things Nat wanted and to buy some eggs. He liked the store because the produce was fresh. The service was terrible though. He picked up the celery, thyme and assorted meats that Nat asked and almost forgot the eggs and frozen vegetables. When he reached the frozen food isle, he decided to pick up a few frozen dinners since he'd be on undercover field duty and he might have less time for fresh dinners.

A short man was standing by the doors, he was looking a bit lost, but Steve had things to do.

"E-excuse me." The man's voice was silky. Steve didn't expect such a smooth tenor from the man, he didn't expect anything at all.

"Oh, uh…. Yes?" Steve put his alfredo dinners into his basket and turned to the man. He seemed shy, staring low at Steve's chest and not his face. It was sort of cute.

"I - you see, I dont know how they rearranged these, they put them all over the place and… I need a few boxes, is it possible for you to help me out?" The man had purely packaged food and easy to eat fruits in his basket, and his eyes seemed to be looking past Steve instead of at Steve. Then it dawned on him.

"Oh…. OH!" Steve realized that this cute man was blind. Steve remembered that the store had done a major renovation over the past week and everything was completely different. Of course the man, being blind, would need help. "Sure, what do you need?"

"Lasagna, Alfredo and the swanson TV dinners, two of each, please." The man was clutching his basket for dear life, and Steve had a hard time looking away from his face.

"Absolutely." Steve said. The man's face was gorgeous. Tanned and warm, cinnamon honey eyes and brown hair. It was a pity the man was blind, he couldn't see how beautiful he was. "You know, my mom went a little blind before she died. But she always had the prettiest eyes. Maybe people's eyes are just too pretty that they become blind."

At this point, Steve was staring. He couldn't stop drinking in the sight of the man. "Your eyes are very pretty."

"Oh, thanks… I've never seen them before." The man was suddenly bashful, drawing his shoulders up and a pretty pink blush spread over his cheeks. "Your voice is pretty nice."

Steve found himself laughing at that. His voice was normal as far as he was concerned. he turned to get the frozen dinners and turned back to the man who was staring up at Steve with those cinnamon honey eyes.

"Oh, I'll put these in your basket." Steve gently rested the dinners on top of a box of crackers, so it didn't crush the man's tomatoes. Leaning in close, the man smelled of coffee and chocolate, rich and musky in a way that had Steve shivering. The man looked hesitant again for a brief moment and then asked:

"Can I touch your face?"

"Uh," Steve stilled. "Sure."

The man reached out and his hand met with Steve's chest. His hand felt like molten lava over Steve's skin and he had to restrain himself from kissing those chocolate scented fingers as they brushed his nose, cheeks and lips.

"I'm Steve Rogers. Who are – I mean, what's your name?"

"Tony Stark."

The name seemed oddly familiar to Steve but he ignored it.

"Oh, okay."

The man, Tony Stark, rested his hand, soft and supple digits and muscular palms, on Steve's shoulder and sighed. Steve realized that he really didn't want to leave this man. He was so beautiful.

"Tony, would you like to maybe go out for coffee some time?" Steve asked.

"Coffee? I'd love to." Tony replied. He tolted his head to the side, and a soft smile spread over his lips.

"Okay. Meet me at Hopperton's on the west side of town-"

"I don't know where that is…" Tony said, lowering his head. The smile slipped off of his face and Steve wanted to put it back as soon as possible.

"Oh, sorry. Where do you know?"

"The little cafe down on 5th street beside the pet shop? I dont know what it's named." Tony drew his shoulders up again. Steve found that it was incredibly endearing.

"Yeah I know that place. How does tomorrow at 3:00 sound?" Steve pulled his business card from his wallet and placed it in Tony's hand. "There's my Phone number… Oh my gosh I'm sorry!"

Steve was mortified. He'd given a blind man his number on a piece of paper! Tony couldn't read it! Steve's whole body felt hot with embarrassment.

Tony laughed at Steve. The sound was unabashed and open, and Tony's face was alight with humour. Steve found himself speechless at it. His eyes sparkled with mirth and his smile was enchanting. A bloom of warmth spread from Steve's chest down to his fingertips

"It's alright. You can just tell me and I'll remember." Tony said. He was still smiling and Steve had the overwhelming urge to kiss him. But that was stupid, he had only just met Tony.

"You sure? It's 456-1358"

Steve said his goodbyes and let Tony turn and go down an aisle. Steve checked the time and cursed. He'd be late for Nat's dinner at this rate. He checked out and went into his old buggie, dumping his groceries onto the passenger seat.

He felt the cold barrel of a gun press into his neck.

"Drive."


End file.
